Hoppy Holiday Homicide

Chapter Ten

Once I reached the nativity display, I sat down gently beside the manger. An icy dampness immediately saturated my bottom, but I didn't care.

“E.B.,” I said softly. “E.B., it’s me, Angie. We met at the pet shop when we were there for pictures with Santa. I don't know if you remember me, but—”

The hay beside me twitched, and a little gray nose poked its way out, followed by two dark eyes. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Who are you? What are you doing here? Where's Mr. Gable? Are you going to eat me? Am I going to die? Is everything okay? Oh Merry Christmas, what a Christmas…”

Octo-Cat appeared at my side with a snarky grin stretched between his whiskers. I couldn’t tell whether he was here to help me or to have some fun at E.B.’s expense.

“Relax, rabbit,” he snarled. “She's not going to eat you. But if you don't cooperate, maybe I will.”

He laughed devilishly in the same way he did when he threw up outside my bedroom door, enjoying the means much more than the end. So he’d be helping me and making things more difficult at the exact same time. Great.

“Oh, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas!” E.B. sputtered, using the holiday greeting as a curse word. “I do not want to be eaten. I do not. I knew I shouldn't have left home today. Mr. Gable made me, but I didn't want to go. I just wanted to sleep at home and eat carrots, and oh!”

With a wildly flicking tail, my cat shouted, “If you know what's good for you, you'll listen to what the lady has to say. No more of this ‘Merry Christmas’ business. You got me?”

The bunny nodded slowly, her long ears flopping in the hay. “I'm sorry,” she sputtered in fear. “I didn't mean to make you angry, Mr. Cat. It’s just… I always have to be on alert or bad things can happen. Life isn’t so easy when you’re prey, you know? Anybody here could hurt me. Lots of bunnies don't get the chance to live as long as I've lived already, and I want to keep on living. I love my human.”

Paisley joined us now. I had no idea where she’d been the last couple minutes, but we still seemed to be free of any newly arriving visitors, so I pressed on.

“Do you—” I began, but Paisley interrupted me, which was very uncharacteristic of her.

She let out a sad howl. Now her normally erect ears fell forward as she tilted her head and studied the bunny with an expression of sorrow. “Oh, you poor bunny. I can't imagine what life is like for you. Do you want to talk about it? I'm a very good listener.”

I was just about to say something to get us back on topic when an increasingly perturbed Octo-Cat came to my rescue.

“Once again, this isn't the Dr. Phil show, and we’re not here to talk about the bunny's feelings. We need information. We need to find Mags. Keep your eye on the prize. Keep your head in the game. Yada yada. And all those other favorite human clichés, too. Now,” he said, turning back to E.B. with flashing yellow eyes. “One of our humans has been kidnapped by dangerous men.”

The bunny gasped.

“Yes,” said Octo-Cat dramatically, nodding as he did. “Dangerous. And we need to get her back before it's too late.”

He took two quick steps forward and unsheathed the claws on one paw demonstratively. “Now tell us what you know, rabbit.”

The bunny’s nose never stopped wiggling even as the rest of her body grew still with fright. “I don't know what you expected of me,” she said weakly. “I'm sorry something happened to your human, but I don't know anything about it. Now, please, can I get back to my nap?”

Octo-Cat licked his exposed claws while narrowing his eyes on the rabbit. I hadn't realized my cat was such a mafioso when it came to the pets of Glendale. I’d have to monitor his television-viewing habits a bit more carefully, it seemed.

He began to speak, but I cut him off by placing a hand on his back. “More flies with honey than vinegar,” I mumbled.

“Who would want flies?” the tabby asked. “Disgusting and completely off topic.”

I rolled my eyes and focused them on E.B. “You've been here all morning watching as everyone comes and goes. Did you see anyone acting suspicious?”

“I see everything,” E.B. said with a nod before freezing up again. “That's the difference between staying alive and becoming a snack.”

“Okay…” I said slowly, given that she hadn't actually deigned to answer my question. “Did you see anyone suspicious?”

One of her ears twitched, then the other. “I find every predator suspicious,” she said. “Including you. And especially that cat.”

Octo-Cat laughed gaily as if this was the best thing he'd ever heard as well as all he'd ever wanted for Christmas.

“I understand,” I said slowly, once again hoping Mr. Gable wouldn’t get back soon so we could pursue more productive means of inquiry. “Was anyone more suspicious than the others? Or suspicious in a different way?”

E.B. thought about this. “Well,” she said at last. “Now that you mention it, yes. I did see some suspicious humans come through.”

Now we were getting somewhere.